And Then She Drowned in Pancake Blood and Vodka
by newxyorkxloser
Summary: DBZ Meets high school! AU Videlx18 "'Guys, this is Juuachi. Don't bite.' And with that she sat down at her desk and began grading papers, as though she did this every day, while an empty bottle of Absolute vodka rolled from under her chair."
1. Don't Bite

Uhm.. Hi! :D I'm kinda popping my DBZ story cherry here.. so dun rip my face off TOO much.. please?

Just a quickie, yeah, this is gonna end up being girlxgirl. If you're really against that then don't waste your time.. If you like it, then yay D Be happy, you've found some.

I dunno how far they're gonna go, so rating is subject to change.

I dun own anything except any random characters that show up that aren't from DBZ or summat. DON'T SUE MEE TT

And now I'munna be quiet XD Uhm.. enjoy I guess!

--

Stupid, I know, but the first thing I noticed about her was her hair. But who couldn't notice her hair? She was fucking blonde, everybody notices that. Blonde, and stunning at that. Rare in a rainy, drab town like ours. Cut short with side-swept bangs, not a single strand out of place, blue eyes just barely glowing from underneath. She may well have walked around with a sign that proclaimed in giant red bubble letters "CITY GIRL" with a sloppy arrow pointing at her head.

Absently, I doodled the sign next to my calculus notes, wondering vaguely if my sloppy, sketchy messes could ever come close to the real thing. I doubted it, and scribbled over the beginnings of her hair, knowing a lost cause when I saw it.

Of course, the second thing I realized was that she was a senior, and any hope that I was beginning to build at the sight of her checking out some girl in the first row instantly shot itself in the face with a shotgun. For god's sake, I'm a fucking freshman. You would think that being a freshman with 5 out of 6 of your classes being at least junior level would mean you were dating all the hot seniors and juniors, right? Wrong. Wrong. So wrong. It just meant that I was ridiculously deprived of human interaction, because I was cripplingly shy, and no senior wants to talk to some loser freshman too shy to say any more than some math answer, especially if she's enough of a nerd to be in classes 3 or 4 years ahead of her.

I glanced up from my notebook, the page now covered with lyrics from obscure folk-punk bands, and caught sight of her again, standing awkwardly at the front of the room, off in the corner, obviously wondering where she was supposed to be going and what she was supposed to be doing. She glanced nervously around, probably wondering where the teacher was.

Poor girl. If only she knew that the dumb drunkard of a woman would do nothing more than stumble into the room, glance around through glazed eyes, and collapse onto her chair, where she would then proceed to either a) vomit uncontrollably or b) pass out, sprawled over the ocean of papers that she could never be bothered to grade. Once, we actually heard her speak. Of course, that was the day that she'd had a hangover rather than being absolutely wasted, and she'd thrown a chair at a kid for tapping his pencil too loud.

On the bright side, nobody's failing calculus. She keeps handing out the A's and we just keep saying that she's the best teacher we've ever had, and she gets a nice big check in the mail every couple of weeks for more booze. Everybody wins.

Ten minutes into the period and the blonde looks like she's trying to actually melt into the wall, and still no sight of our drunken teacher (we never did find out her name, so most people just call her Miss Tequila.) The girl looks like she's finally given up hope, and as she's just starting to pull out a black iPod video and unwrap the bright blue headphones, Miss Tequila finally barged into the room, eyes bloodshot, hair sticking up in angles weirder than the guy to the left of me, who probably uses a quarter bottle of hair gel every morning.

Dear god, she isn't drunk.

I think I was the only one in the class who even bothered to acknowledge her entrances anymore. . . everybody else just assumed that she'd already passed out, considering the lack of retching noises and splattering coming from the from of the room. She has bags under her eyes bigger than the one back in my locker, her eyes are more red than white (Don't shoot until you see the red of their eyes?) and one piece of her hair is sticking up at least 8 inches before it falls into her face, but she isn't drunk. The room feels almost as if it's throbbing with the noise of conversations about who fucked who and comparing who got where in World of Warcraft, and the sound of guys crumpling up pieces of notebook paper to chuck at each other. One of the potheads passes a dime bag to some new customer in exchange for a crisp 10 bill.

She stands up there next to next girl for a few moments longer, staring at the room full of teenagers, looking as deranged as I'm pretty sure is humanly possible, for a good five seconds (I suppose that she was trying to be patient.) without being noticed, before she finally let out an absolutely horrible, banshee-like screech and raked her nails along the chalkboard. Of course, by then every eye in the room was on her (one guy was even scrambling to find his cell phone to record evidence of Miss Tequila's ability to speak, as that was obviously what she was gearing up to do.) but the hungover, possibly high woman hadn't had her way with our class yet.. she had a look on her face like some dude in one of those action movies finally able to extract his revenge, and as she stumbled over to the pale of textbooks in the corner, we all hid under our desks.

"I knew we should've burned them when we had the chance.." One of the potheads whispered fearfully from behind me, notebook held in front of his face, as though the flimsy thing would really protect him from a 700 page hardcover textbook.

The strangest thing happened next.

Rather than picking up the whole pile of textbooks and throwing them at the class like she normally would've done, she picked up a single textbook, carried it back to the blonde girl, and said something about sitting in the empty seat near the back, which would've been more helpful if there was a single seat in the room that wasn't empty. Then, a little bit louder, so that we knew that she was talking to us now, "Guys, this is Juuachi. Don't bite."

And with that she sat down at her desk and began grading papers, as though she did this every day, while an empty bottle of Absolute vodka rolled from under her chair.

--

Kind of a short chapter.. But I liked the ending. XD I'm working on the second chappy right now, so it'll be up pretty soon if you wanna read more. 3 Click tat review button.. please? I dun bite!

Well, unless you want me too..


	2. So Now She Knows My Name

See? I told you I was already working on a second chapter :D

DO NOT OWN. DO NOT WANT TO BE SUED D:

I think that about covers it.

--

But of course, all good things must come to an end, and we knew that Miss Tequila couldn't keep up this act for more than a day, two at most. And, as teenagers, we're always right. Always. Don't question why or how, we just are. Even when we're wrong, we _will_ be right in some way. It's just how the universe works. The second we get out of college though, everything we say will be wrong in some tiny way. Again, also just the way the universe works. Something happens after college. . I've seen it with my own eyes. Something just dies.

I think it's their souls.

Anyway, Miss Tequila showed up absolutely fucking gone the next day. She didn't even make it more than halfway through the door before she collapsed, half an hour after the period ended. We were all too terrified to touch her, but we were just as scared that this would be the one day that somebody from the board of education decided to actually walk around the school that they were supposed to be running, and they'd find poor Miss Tequila, sprawled across the floor, only halfway in her classroom, feet covered in only a single dirty sock sticking out the cheap fake wood door.

Eventually we decided that we'd rather have our current calculus teacher puke all over us than have to deal with a _real_ teacher. We were too used to this glorious extra free period and easy A in math. We weren't about to give it up. No fucking way in hell would we give up this free credit. I want my fucking A in calculus.

Of course, that meant that I got to be the lucky soul to _move_ her.

It went okay until she woke up and ruthlessly beat me with a textbook, and then crumpled back to the ground.

She's safe enough there in the middle of the floor.

And with that, I limped pathetically back to my chair and resumed my drawing, trying to plug my bleeding nose with my shirt sleeve.

"What's the deal with this class..?" Came a voice from beside me. Low. Deep.. velve--okay. FUCKING sexy. There. I said it.

But honestly though, it was. It's not like I'm going to sit here and deny it like some stupid "ewwww I don't dig girls.. but your girlfriend's really good in bed." type lesbians, because, while, to an extent, they are cute, but god damn, they can never make up their minds. One minute it's, "I don't wanna kiss girls." and the next thing you know you're hooking up with them in an elevator, and god damn does she ever want to fucking kiss girls.

I turned to the voice, surprised to find that it came from the new girl. Of course the hottest girl in the class also has the hottest voice. And smells fruity, and still has absolutely perfect hair. Of course. Why stop at just having perfect looks? Because somebody, somewhere loves to torture those of us who weren't born absolutely fucking perfect. "Oh, you mean her?" I asked, pointing my thumb over my shoulder at Miss Tequila's unconscious form, which was currently humping the textbook she'd used to beat me a couple of minutes ago.

"No, I mean all the other perfectly normal people in this room." She said, a hint of a smile gracing her lips, and I noticed that she had freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose, and she had a single, lone dimple when she smiled, even one as small as the one that she'd given me the privilege to see.

I grinned back at her, before feeling self-conscious of how my own eyes squinted whenever I did so. "We know about as much as you do. Yesterday was the second time all year we've heard her speak. And she was sober and everything too. . I guess she tried to make up for the lost alcohol consumption. She's back to normal today though, which is good. I was getting a bit worried about her."

Juuachi strained her next for another look at what must've been, for her, a once in a lifetime opportunity to see a teacher passed out on the ground from drinking. "Uhm.. what about our grades?" She asked nervously. _Okay. So she cares about school. At least she's not one of those cheerbitches._

"Oh, she just gives us all A's." I said simply, trying not to laugh as Miss Tequila rolled on top of the poor textbook she'd decided she wanted to have hot sex with.

For a moment, we sat in awkward silence, before I asked nervously, trying not to let the conversation die, "So.. where'd you move from? "

"New York City, actually." She said, as if having not only been to, but _living_ in **New York City** was no big deal at all. "Foster parents decided that they didn't like the east coast anymore, so they packed up and moved across the fuckin' country. They couldn't take a vacation.. nope, just sell the apartment and move."

See? Teenagers like myself are always right. City girl. But jesus, _New York_ City? New fucking York. I wonder if all the girls over there look the way she does, or if she's pretty even there. Christ, I've always wanted to go to New York City. Lucky bitch. Well, except the part where she had to pack everything up and move to this crappy, rainy little town. I mean, yeah, we had a beach, but honestly, who goes to the beach when everything's already soggy? If you really want to go to the beach, you can get on a bus and spend the next two and a half hours waiting around, and then you'll end up in California, on some nice beach or other, but nobody's mobile enough in this town to do even that. They'd probably explode from the excitement of simply being on a bus that wasn't bright yellow.

After a moment, I realized that she'd said _foster_ parents, and couldn't help but wonder what'd happened to her real parents. I couldn't help but be even more attracted to her after hearing that though.. she _looked_ perfect, but there was something else lurking below the surface. Were they dead? Alcoholics? Child protective services took her away from her family for no good reason, maybe? I know that's what happened to the girl who used to sit in front of me in biology last year. The school called CPS on her and they took her to some mental institution because she missed like 20 days of school out of 7 months, and her parents refused to sign the papers, so she got put into foster care. Or maybe she'd been put up for adoption at birth or something.

Another few moments of silence, before I decided to ask another stupid, basic question. It's not like I really had anything else to go on except the calculus class that we shared. "Hey.. do you have your schedule on you?"

She shrugged, and then dug through a pile of papers briefly, then handed me none other than her schedule. I scanned it quickly, and then realized, "Dude! I have like, half of my classes with you!"

"Really?"

"Yeah.. look. We've got 2nd, 3rd, 7th and.. well, duh, 8th period together." Whoever it was that hated me somewhere, I think that they were finally taking pity on me. It was kind of weird that I hadn't noticed her anywhere else, but oh well. It's not like I was supposed to notice her. It wasn't like I liked her or anything. It was just surprising.. she stood out so much from every other face in the crowds of brown haired, brown eyed people that it was actually kind of amazing that I'd managed to not catch sight of her all day today.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that Videl.

"Oh.. by the way, I'm Videl." I said, grinning sheepishly when I realized that I hadn't even told her what my name was. Gee, that isn't creepy at all. Nope, not in the least.

I really need to work on my lying, don't I?

She smiled at me again, and it was just then that I realized that she wasn't the talkative type. Inwardly, I smiled a bit to myself. God, this girl was a breath of fresh air.

And then, behind us, through the intercom system (since the school couldn't even be bothered to use _real_ bells) played the strange windchime-like noise that they played every afternoon at 2:50. Supposedly it was supposed to sound like a bell. Yeah, uhm, no. Just no. Not that anybody really cares all that much what exactly the bell sounds like, as long as we can get out of this stupid building and go home already.

"So.. you think you could show me around sometime Videl?" Came Juuachi's voice from beside me once again, as I was gathering up the single notebook that I still, for some reason bothered bringing to class.

I think I'm dreaming. "Seriously..? I..I mean.. Yeah sure! I'd love to!"

For once, I'm finally not regretting being good at math.

--

Rawr! :3 There's your second chappy! I actually finished it last night, but I didn't like the ending, sooo.. I came back an rewrote it :D Anything you dun like? Let me know and I'll listen!

Review..? Pretty please? I'll give you.. uhm.. a sammich!


	3. Legs and Alcohol

Omgosh I am SO sorry that this party took so long!! I've been writing this bit by bit for the past few days, but I keep getting distracted and then when I finally start to write my dad comes up and kicks me off the computer X.x

Not to mention we're having a heatwave. puts on bikini and braces for another day of like 100 humidity and 105º Oh well! :3 I'll live!

--

"Well, not that there's really all that much to see in a town like this, but.."

She cut me off, smiling ever so slightly as she pushed a few strands of silky blonde hair behind her ear, and then said softly, "Do your best." Her voice just barely above a whisper, her blue eyes just barely narrowed as she looked right at me intently. She couldn't have looked for more than a few moments, but the whole scene made my cheeks burn red and my already barely functioning brain completely melt (brain soup, anyone? Come on, quality brain soup.)

I'm a trainwreck, my mind's burned out and it's all because of this girl.

God, what is up with me these past few days? She's a cute girl, that's it. I don't know anything about her or anything, except for her name. I just met her yesterday in calculus, and she watched me get beaten up by a drunk teacher holding a textbook. Not exactly the best love story ever. Wait, love story? For god's sake Videl, shut the fuck up. You have a crush. Lust. You're so stupid. How can you even have a crush on somebody just because they're hot? Okay. Attraction. You have an attraction to this girl that you just met yesterday, and now your imagination's running wild and making you crazy and.. why am I talking to myself in my mind? Oh, god I _am _fucked up.

Shit. I think she just said something. What'd she say?

Oh, wait. That was just Miss Tequila. Okay. False alarm. You're okay Videl.. just stop talking to yourself in your mind.

I jumped suddenly (this crazy ass reflex that I've never really been able to make go away.. especially when I'm having one of my "oh my god Videl, stop talking to yourself" episodes.) when I felt.. well, somebody's hand on my wrist, pulling out of the position that was holding me up (remind me again why we have legs?) "Hey.. is that Against Me?"

Oh. Juuachi. Shit. Crap. Fuck. Okay, as long as I don't sit here and blush like an imbecile I should be okay. "Yeah.. you know them?" I asked, not even realizing how amazing it was that somebody else actually knew my favorite band.. and their earlier music at that. Not the crappy new stuff (which actually isn't that crappy as music, just as music made by Against Me)

"Know them? I _love_ them!" She practically squealed, while she went to work turning over my arm, trying to weed out more of their lyrics from the rest of my erratic penmanship, seeing as how I'd decided it was my arm's turn to be covered in lyrics, considering how many pieces of paper had nobly sacrificed their lives to my boredom. Well.. not that there was much life left to sacrifice, considering that those papers had started off as a tree.

Details, details. Oh, wait. Crap, I was supposed to say something, wasn't I?

"Seriously? What's your favorite album?" I asked, trying not to let my voice waver and shake, the way that my whole body was. If nothing else would try to preserve my dignity, at least my vocal cords would still hold up for me. Good old vocal cor--my voice cracked on album, didn't it?

Stupid vocal cords. Why does everything let me down at times like this? I just hope she doesn't feel my arm shakin--"Hey, are you cold or something..? You're shaking.."

For god's sake. All I could do when she said that was sit there and blush. Oh, wait. That's probably a bad idea. I shrugged simply and said, "U..uhm.. sorta.. I guess." Please just leave it at that. Don't ask me why I'm shaking.. please don't ask me why. I don't think I'm capable of coming up with a decent lie right now, and I really, really don't think that she'd really like to know the real reason why I'm shaking the way I am.. I'm so nervous just being around her. I'm so nervous that I'm going to do something stupid and then she's never going to talk to me again.

I'm kind of short on friends already. Chucking me into the rumor mill probably wouldn't help that number at all.

"Crime." For a moment, I looked at her blankly, then remembered what we'd been talking about _before_ the whole shaking incident. Okay, I guess it really wasn't that big of a deal to her.

Again, delayed reaction. "Ohmygod are you serious? That's my favorite too!"

I don't think she's human. She's probably actually my clone, sent back from the future to be exactly like me, entrance me by being everything I ever wanted, and then she's gonna eat my brains or something.

Because, I mean, that's totally reasonable and everything.

--

So, our grand tour of Melborne took about fifteen minutes. We went to DD's, shoprite, the park, and then went back to my house. Thrilling, no? The worst part is that the shoprite was the best part, and my personal favorite spot in the entire town (of course, Miss Tequila's classroom was getting pretty far up there, because, as I'd realized, even though we had most of our classes together, Juuachi and I could only actually talk in our calculus "class" because the rest of the time, we were supposed to be getting our edumacationz.. I don't think it's working though.)

"Hey.. do you have any booze here?" She asked, almost the second we walked in my door. Oh, god. City girl. Right, I forgot about that. They're all alcoholics or something. At least, that's what I've heard.. I wonder if it's true.

Shit, what if she has to drive herself home or something?

And why, exactly, am I concerned? I'm supposed to be a teenager. Along with being right, we are also amazingly irresponsible creatures with a love for self destructive, dangerous acts, like breaking into my parents' liquor floor (yes, we do have an entire floor devoted to our liquor) and downing a couple of bottles of vodka.

"Gee, only a floor covered in it."

The look on her face when I said that.

"I would kiss you if you weren't straight."

I think the simple thought of alcohol has already gotten her drunk. Poor gir--

If I weren't straight? Oh my god. Wait. If I weren't straight? That implies that she _totally_ isn't straight, doesn't it? It does. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. She goes for girls. She totally goes for girls. Oh my fucking god, I love everything. I fucking love everything. Oh my god, imagine her drunk.

My mind's racing right now, and I can't help but wonder if she can tell. Right at this moment, high on this new (possible) revelation, I honestly couldn't care less what she might think about me. If anything, it'll make the banner of my supposed straightness burn to the ground. And that's good, isn't it?

"Oh wait.. shit. I've been sober for almost a week.. I probably shouldn't be drinking." She sighed, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her hair the way she did all the time (I'm starting to think that she did that whenever she felt awkward or didn't have anything else to do with her hairs) only to have it fall back out a couple of seconds later.

A week. Geez, are there any rumors about these city girls that aren't true? It's not like she got drunk last week at a going away party, otherwise she'd be saying, "Ehgg.. but I just got drunk last weekend."

I shrugged awkwardly, not really sure what to say to that.. if I should be begging her to get drunk (even though I've only been drunk about twice in my life, and once was when I was 5 because I thought that the bottle of wine was a really big bottle of flavored water) or if I should be helping her stay sober, so instead I just lazily dragged myself over to the couch and turned on the tv. I figured maybe just a little gentle prodding might work instead, so I asked shyly, "Uhm.. are you sure?"

"Yeah. This is the longest I've been sober since I was about fourteen." She said, without a hint of shame. It wasn't like she was proud of the fact or something, it was something that just simply was. It was a part of her, I guess, and it took guts to admit that.

"Oh.." Was the best I could conjure up in response to that. I looked at her for a moment, and she blushed.

"Ohmygosh.. I hope I didn't scare you or anything, did I? God, I hate when I do that to people!" She said quickly, blushing an messing with her bangs a bit.

I smiled and shook my head, cuddling up to a pillow and switching to comedy central, curling myself up a bit. After a few more moments, she asked shyly, "So.. what happened to your legs..?" I craned my neck and looked at her for a moment, then down at the dozens of dull purple scars like traintracks racing up my thighs, and wondered briefly for a moment if I should even bother trying to lie to her, but in that moment it felt like those eyes could see through anything, and everything, and that if they tried hard enough, they would see into eternity.

Quietly, I admitted, "Eighth grade wasn't really the best year in the world for me." I watched her for a moment, waiting for the standard teenage reaction to finding out about one of their friends (I mean, we were friends now, right?) used to be a cutter, but all she did was lean her head gently on my shoulder, letting her breath tickle my ear and blow stray strands of hair onto the back of my neck.

I wish there were more people like her in the world, who know when to talk about something, and when just a simple touch is more than any words could ever say.

I wish she'd shown up a year ago when that simple action would've made me throw out every single razor blade.

--

Finally finished! I'm SO sorry this chappy took so long.. .x I got really into my painting, so I just _had_ to finish it 9.9

AKA the basement's colder than the rest of my house. XD

BTW Bloddy Violet Heart is my hot hot sex!!

:D I love you.


	4. What She Hates About Drunk

Wheee! The heatwave went poof! :3 And all it took was a ginormous thunderstorm that knocked out my power last night.. right.. after.. I.. finished.. this.. chapter.

D:

Oh well! Chapter 4, take 2!

--

The silence that fell like snow, softly and almost unnoticed, wasn't the awkward kind that you'd usually end up with when something like what'd just happened with somebody that you just met (and had a huge crush on) where you both really, really wanted to say something, but no words good enough could ever come to mind, and you'd sit there for what felt like hours, opening your mouth to say something, but then realizing that it was all coming out so wrong. No, the silence that had fallen into the room was more the type of silence where the both of us knew better than to say anything, because words can only show so much, and they're just useless sometimes.

Yes, I am overly analytical of silences.

I felt her gently twirling a strand of my short hair around her finger, and couldn't help but smile a bit, even as my cheeks burned bright red again (at least, that's what it felt like. For all I knew they could be purple and there could be an alien having sex with my ear.) And as I felt her leaning her head on my shoulder and her arms lazily draping over my stomach, I couldn't help but blush even more. God, this was the weirdest feeling in the world.. normally I would've known exactly what to do in this situation. Normally, I wouldn't be nearly paralyzed at the feeling of somebody else's touch, but I guess it wasn't just this girl's looks that were out of the ordinary.

The strangest thing of all was that, when I looked over at the green digital numbers on the cable box, they said that we'd been sitting here like this for a good 10 minutes. God damn, it feels like we just sat down.

Suddenly, she jerked up and shoved her hand into her skirt pocket, and then produced a Blackberry Pearl, which was currently vibrating it's ass off. I caught sight of the caller ID, which read "Fat People" Her face fell, and she sighed, picking up the call. "What?"

Through the earpiece, I could barely make out a distorted male voice barking, "Don't you talk to me like that young lady! Where the fuck are you?"

"Joe, it's only 4:23. On a Friday." She replied. Overprotective foster parents?

Again, that slightly obnoxious voice, "You're out getting drunk again, aren't you? For fuck's sake Juuachi!"

"Joe, I'm no--"

But he cut her off, snarling, "God fucking damnit. We paid for your fucking three months of rehab in Four fucking Winds and this is the thanks you give us?"

Her face froze for a moment, and she bit her lip, knuckles turning white as she gripped the phone, and for a moment I wondered if she was trying to break it. "Nobody ever asked you to send me there."

"Nobody asked? You ran in front of a FUCKING 16-WHEELER AND ENDED IN THE FUCKING HOSPITAL TWO DAYS AFTER YOU CAME HOME FROM PRESBRYTARIA--" His screams were cut off as she hit the end call button and sighed as she nervously turned towards me.

As she forced a smile, she asked weakly, her voice shaking just the tiniest bit, "That was Joe. Isn't he sweet?" I guess it went without saying that I'd heard every word of their conversation.

Before she'd gotten the chance to turn her phone off, it started vibrating again and she sighed, not even bothering to look at the caller ID as she answered, voice a depressing monotone, "Hello? ..Now? Why? Oh.. come on. Half an hour.. please? Oh, come on. This is important, besides, you're the younger one, who ever said that you could boss me around?" She giggled a little bit, and I couldn't help but instantly think, _Oh god, boyfriend. Or girlfriend._

Hey wait. 'This is important.' She thinks I'm important!

I can't help but stare at her jawline, just barely visible, but still obviously strong. The bump in the bridge of her nose that gave away the fact that it'd been broken before, but somehow that made her look all the more perfect, in that amazingly imperfect kind of way. Oh, god I'm not making sense at all anymore, am I? The shape of her soft looking lips, with just a hint of pink lipgloss, and her smallish chin, half covered by stray strands of golden blonde hair. Fuck, Videl, stop. You're obsessing. You're being creepy and weird and oh my god her eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue.

Fuck. Stop it. Stop it now. What if she catches you staring, huh? What happens then?

Oh shit. I'm talking to myself again.

"Oh, fine jerk. I'm not going at all then. I have.." Her voice brought me spiraling back to reality, and as her voice trailed off, she turned to me and grinned, "much, much better things to do tonight."

Oh, the things that went through my head as she said that. All the hot, hot, _hot_ images that flashed before my mind's-eye. Her, pinned up against a wall, both her wrists held in a single hand, the other pushing her v-neck shirt up, lips locked together as our tongues--"So.. Videl. You, me, a bottle of vodka and that park your showed me? The one by the water?"

Two drunk lesbian (bisexual? straight and just a flirt?) girls. Together. All night. _Drunk._ Alone. Did I mention drunk?

"Should you really be.."

"Please?" Puppy eyes. Goddamnit, why does everybody give me puppy eyes and the cute little pouty lips? Do I walk around with a neon sign that says that I'm a sucker for puppy eyes or something? Actually, with my luck I probably do. Not that I really mind.. after all, it _is_ adorable. I can't deny that, no matter how hard I try to. Adorable. Adorable adorable _adorable_. In fact, I think my heart just melted from the sheer adorableness.

"..You go start your car, I'll get the booze." So much for trying not to drink.. ick. Oh well, she'll be fine. At least, I hope she will. Oh, shut up Videl, of course she'll be fine, because you won't _let_ anything happen to her.

Yes, I am protective.

--

"So.. Videlll.." She slurred, taking another gulp of vodka, her head in my lap and my fingers in her hair, my own neck craned slightly upward, looking up at the open sky. Next to me, I heard the empty sloshing that told me that the bottle was nearly empty when she sloppily put it back down next to us. I picked it up and squinted, trying to see just how much she'd had. Oh. There's enough for at least ten more shots.

Which isn't really a lot, considering that it was a 40oz bottle. "Uhm.. yeah.?" I asked, taking a gulp and not even coughing this time. Jesus, this stuff was absolutely _vile_. Thank god it wasn't really all that hard for me to get drunk.

"Truth or.. truth?" Juuachi mumbled, eyes only half open as she reached up and made a grab for the bottle, which I pulled out of her reach. Amazingly enough, she let her hand settle back on my thigh as she rolled over and curled up a bit.

"Uhm.. wow, this is so hard.." I mumbled, acting as though this were a truly impossible, life changing question. "I guess.. truth."

Her head rolled over and wobbled a bit as she looked up at me, blue eyes slightly foggy and glassy. Not that it was really that surprising.. she just went through god knows how many shots worth of vodka. "Are.. you.. a uhm.. a.. what's it called.. a virgin.?"

I couldn't help but giggle just a little bit. "Dude, it's 2008 and I'm a girl in high school. ..Oh god, I'm supposed to be a virgin, aren't I?"

We both burst out in drunken laughter, and she pulled herself up, only to fall back into my lap. "Oh, whatever, I'm not any better. I lost it when I was even younger than you are."

"Well who'd you lose it to..?" I asked, knowing that no matter what she said next, mine was worse.

"My best friend." She said, giggling and taking another swig of vodka, the bottle of which had somehow found it's way back into her hands. "She was straight.. and drunk. Well.. let's just say that we're.. not really best.. se-friends.. friends that's what they're called."

"I lost it to a gay guy." I admitted sheepishly. "And it wasn't even real sex, it was up the butt."

More drunken laughter. "Oh my godsh, are you sherious? Was he drunk or something?" She asked between giggles.

"That's the worst part. I was the drunk one."

We both grinned at each other, and then I took another huge gulp of vodka. God, I've only had five or six shots worth, and my head's already spinning and my body's feeling all tingly and I swear to god somebody's got a bunch of wires hooked up to my ass and they're shocking me every few seconds.

Oh. That's just because Juuachi's touching me.

"So.. guys or girls?" She asked, grabbing for the vodka but grabbing hold of a handful of grass and stuffing that in her mouth instead. "Uhm.. This is some pretty weird tasting vodka Videl.."

I figured it was better if I didn't say anything. "Girls. Definitely girls. Guys are only good for sex, and even then most of them're horrible in bed. ..You..?" I asked shyly, hoping that if worst came to worst at least she wouldn't remember anything.

"Girls. Just girls." She said, more surely than anything else she'd said since she'd started drinking. "Anything a guy can do, it seems like a girl can do it better." And as she said this she started picking pieces of grass out of her mouth, and then mumbled, "Whoaaa mann.. how'd doseee get in there?"

Another one of those moments where it was really better if I didn't say anything at all, and instead I just sat there chugging vodka and looking out at the river, stars twinkling against the dark blue night's sky, a single, lone ship floating in the middle of the river, a lone light shining on it's tip. Somehow, in all the time that I'd lived in Melborne, I'd never realized how pretty this park was at night. The grassy part and the playground are both pretty crappy, but right up by the water, on the giant rocks that they put to keep the water from flooding everything is so fucking gorgeous. Just, holy shit. Especially that awesome spinny, blurry thing that the sky keeps doing.

Oh. That's me getting drunk, isn't it?

I love it. With that in mind, I chugged the last of the vodka and threw it into the river, somehow incredibly amused by the ripples in the water around where it landed. "Hey.. you know.. what I HATE.. abouttt.. drunk..?" Juuachi stammered, her head still in my lap.

"What..?" I mumbled, looking down at her and absently playing with a few strands of her golden hair.

"It makes me.. do.. things.." She trailed off for a moment, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, before she pulled herself up and sat cross legged, her head literally spinning around slightly, the rest of her body following. "that.. I mean.. I would normally wantt to.. but.. I would normally know.. not to.."

For a moment, we just looked at each other through drunken, glassy eyes, trying to make sense of.. anything at all really, but nothing could get past the alcohol, and we just sat there shaking, rolling ourselves back and forth just to keep our heads steady.

Out of nowhere, I felt the softest hands on my cheek, turning me towards her, and her lips pressed against mine, drunkenly clumsy, but oh so endearing.

Strangely enough, even though she was drunk out of her mind, and I was horny as fucking christ, it was barely more than a quick peck. Just enough to give me a taste and leave me craving her even more than I had before anything had happened at all.

I looked at her, and she looked right back, nervous in the most adorable way. "Like that.." She mumbled, blushing (was that from the alcohol, or had her cheeks just turned that soft pink a moment ago?) We stayed like that a moment longer, our lips just barely touching, eyes half open, before we burst into drunken laughter and laid back on the grass, hands just barely held in each other's, playing with our fingers almost like it meant anything to more than one of us.

Who knows, maybe it did.

--

Rawr! :D They finally kissed! Uhm.. I didn't really wanna make it really cheesy and long and.. blargle. I mean, they did just meet like, at the beginning of the week and everything. . ehg.. I'm never any good at writing kiss scenes XD

Uhm.. I hope that this chappy was worth the wait! I spent the last 2 days rewriting it.

Originally, I was kind of thinking of having them hook up while they were drunk and then wake up next to each other naked, but.. eh. This seemed better D:

err.. Rawr? I hope you liked it! -runs off to start the next chapter-


	5. I Meant With A Teddy Bear

Whee! I'm back again, now with chapter five! :3

. Now that I'm all nice and sobered up.. -has wanted to write this for hours but I'm kinda drunk.. still XD-

So anything that doesn't make sense, spelled wrong or just sucks, blame the alcohol!

Okay.. Uhm.. . After like over a week without updating, I'm finally gonna finish this. GOING TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER.

--

Another couple of hours passed like that, with us just laying there and bursting out laughing at the stupidest things every few minutes, before I finally sat up and mumbled, "Hey.. maybe we should.. go back to my house.." I could still vaguely feel my body spinning around to keep up with the awesome way that everything around me had suddenly decided to spin.

"Mm.. oh baby, I like this idea.." Juuachi growled, jumping on me and pinning me down, holding my hands above my head with a single one of hers, the other just barely tracing lines down my neck with a single finger. Oh, my god she is so drunk.. And I feel my breath catching in my throat and my face turning pink and my whole body going stiff and I can't help but wonder if I smell okay. Holy shit, I think she's serious too. Oh my god, I thought she was kidding, but I really, really don't think she is anymore and..

But after that, I don't think I was even allowed to have thoughts anymore, not that I would've been able to even if I'd wanted. Her lips were on mine and this time it was definitely more than just a peck. Her tongue was in my mouth and before I knew it mine was in hers and her hand was under my shirt and, oh my god I'm not supposed to like that as much as I'm liking it and I can't push her away even if I wanted to.

Oh, shit, no. She's drunk. I'm drunk. We're drunk. We can't do this. Stop, stop, stop, sto--oh, god it feels so good when she does that..

And her hand's under my bra and she's sucking on my tongue and oh my _god_ that girl is a good kisser, and fuck, she's amazing even if she's only using one hand.

No, stop. You're drunk. She's so drunk and she's going to hate you and..

Okay. Okay, I turned my head away from hers. She's not kissing me anymore. Good. That's a start.. her hand's still in my shirt but she's not doing anything with it anymore. "V..videlll..?" She slurred, looking at me, confused.

"I..I meant.. we should go to sleep.."

"Like.. with each other..?" Oh my god. Please don't tempt me. Please don't tempt me anymore I can't take it I'm trying to be good but this is so hard but I just don't want you to hate me.

"No.. I mean like.. like.. w..with dreams and.. a blanket and a teddy bear and.." I stammered, realizing just how hard it was to form coherent sentences.

The look on her face. She looked like she'd just been punched in the stomach. "..Oh.. my.. godsh.. wait.. you mean.. you didn't want to.."

I really didn't know what to say to that one. I mean, yes, I would love to take that hottie and absolutely fuck her brains out, but maybe I shouldn't tell her that.. but then again, she _did_ jump on top of me and shove her hand in my mouth. "Uhm.. w..well.. I mean.. I do.. but that wasn't what I meant and.. and for god's sake, I'm.. I'm.. who am I again..? W..well.. I know you wouldn't normally want to sleep.. with me and.. well I mean I want to.. but y..you wouldn't if you were sober.. and I don't want you to hate me because I actually do like you and.." Oh god, I'm babbling. Shut up, for christ's fucking sake Videl. You can be so fucking stupid sometimes.

"Trust me, I wanted to do you even when I was sober.."

I don't think that there was anything I could've possibly said to that that wouldn't make me look like even more of an idiot than I already did. So, I responded brilliantly with, "U..uhm.. blargle?"

I know, I have such a way with words, don't I?

"Blargle to you too.." She said, smiling as she kissed me again, softer this time, her touch no longer demanding, but almost begging. Okay, I have to admit, that was sweet. In fact, the whole scene was sweet.. minus the drunk part. It was just a giant ball of sweet sweetness rolled into.. uhm.. a bigger ball of sweetness.

Wait. What the fuck am I saying?

I'm such an idiot, aren't I?

But oh my god her lips are so soft and for god knows what reason she somehow doesn't taste that strongly of alcohol and why is my heart beating like that? It's not like I've never kissed a girl before but this is soft and sweet and her hands are in my hair and I can't believe just how different this is from everybody else.

And I'm trying to figure out if it's her or me.

"H..hey.. how're we gonna get home..?" I stammered, realizing just how drunk and incapable of driving she was and how totally underage I was.

She looked at me, then shrugged, before glancing at her can, at me, and then back at her car. "Come on."

"W..wait.. w..wha.." I stammered again, amazed by my inability to coherently form even the simplest of sentences as she grabbed my arm and dragged me towards her car. "Oh my god, no. You are not driving."

"Who ever said anything about driving?" She said, grinning at me as she tugged open the back door and pulled me inside and on top of her, her tongue in my mouth before I'd even totally grasped what'd just happened. Okay, honestly, I do have to admit, this is hot. Making out in the back of a ridiculously sexy car with an equally hot girl.

And I can't help but realize just how different she is when she's drunk, and I can't help but wonder if I like it or not. Well, hell yes, I love the whole making out part and oh my god how did she get my bra off that fast?

Oh.. god.. my head doesn't feel so good anymore.

--

Shortest chapter EVER I am soooooso sorry! .x God, I just needed to finish this and get this posted.

Ick.. X.x Worst chapter ever, I know. You're free to like, stab stakes through my heart if you want to XD I'll start working on the new chappy soon.. Cause I'm getting a laptop! Soo.. you're gonna be seeing a _lot_ more writing from me after.. maybe.. Tuesday or Wednesday? :3 Yay!

But for now, I'm sorry you had to suffer through that.. XD


	6. THE ALIENZ TOOK MA POPTARTZ

You thought I gave up on this, didn't you? :P

Oh, you wish you could get rid of me. D:

I FUCKING LOVE EVERYBODY WHO REVIEWED. YOU'RE ALL MY HEROS. ALL THREE OF YOU.

--

I'm waking up. Shit. I'm waking up. Why am I waking up? I don't remember not being awake and the last thing I remember is something a about a bottle of vodka, and 'vodka' and 'waking up' are almost never signs of good things when they're in the same sentence.

Actually, I don't think that they can ever be in the same sentence together and be the sign of something good.

"Hey! You're up.. I was kinda starting to get--"

"WHY ARE YOU SO LOUD?" Christ. She sounds like a fucking concert. All the fucking concerts in all the fucking world. Why does she have to be so loud and why does her perfume have to smell so strong? Her perfume and the smell of new car and the light and oh god, the noise. We're parked right by the fucking railroad.

My stomach's turning and I don't remember if I puked last night but I'm sure as fucking hell going to puke now. How on Earth could somebody ever be an alcoholic? I can't even take getting drunk one night and waking up the next morning with a hangover. The whole, "Alcohol takes the pain away!" thing makes no sense. At all. These people are all fucking crazy. How is this "taking the pain away", exactly?

I'm stumbling forward and out of the car and I'm walking on shaking legs and whatever was left in my stomach's in the bushes now.

Oh god, I hate having to throw up. It's not like it hurts that much or anything, but I'm always scared that I'm going to choke or there's gonna be blood instead of stomach acid or I'm gonna throw up alien eggs or something.

Okay, maybe not so much the last one, but whatever. Anything's possible, after all, and not believing in them will just make me more likely to die an alien egg related death.

Hey. Hey hey hey. Wait.

How come I'm not wearing a shirt?

I'm stumbling back to the car and pulling the door open, eyes drooping shut and I'm barely aware of what's happening and I feel drunk all over again. "Hey.. Juuachi?"

"Yeah?" She's asking, holding onto my arm and pulling me back into the car.

Thank god her windows are tinted and she's got a big car and the backseat's nice and big and comfortable and it's practically begging me to just lay on it.

"Where'd my shirt go..?" My voice's hoarse and everything's all blurry and it feels like somebody's smacking me in the head with a hammer or something. Oh, god, I hate alcohol. Why do hangovers have to exist?

I'm curling up on the seat and my head's in her lap, and she doesn't say anything for a little while, her fingers curling pieces of my hair. "You said that it was trying to eat you brains and then threw it at the steering wheel."

Oh god. What the fuck else did I do?

"Oh."

"Yeah."

So now I'm laying here in the back of some hot girl's car, with a girl I met a couple of days ago in Miss Tequila's 'class' and I don't have a shirt and I don't have a bra and I'm too hungover to even be bothered by my half-nakedness, because at this point, honestly, just keeping my eyes open is unnecessary effort. If I could have my way, I wouldn't have to breathe anymore--breathing's too loud. I don't like breathing. If we could all just rip our lungs out and not do it and use to extra space to have really big livers, and manage to not die, I would totally do it.

In about an hour though, I _am_ going to care and then I'm going to realize all of the stupid, humiliating things that I must've done last night and I'm never going to show myself in public again. Ever. Even though I was only with her--Hiding out in a pillow fort in your bedroom after some embarrassing incident is just so much more dramatic, and in my experience has led to pieces of pie being delivered to your room, and free trips to the mall.

"Hey.. is that a hickey?" I'm asking vaguely, poking at this hugeass purple mark I just noticed on her neck.

"Uhm.."

"Cause it looks like Texas. That'd be so cool if you could have a hickey that was a map of Texas.." I'm mumbling. God, my head hurts so much that I'm still acting drunk.

I'm never drinking vodka ever, ever again. It doesn't even taste that good, for god's sake.

--

It's Monday and I'm in school again and I'm pretty sure it's not possible but I still feel like I'm going to puke. And I still have no idea what I did and I realized after she'd driven me home that she hadn't had a Texas shaped hickey in school on Friday and I'd been with her since the end of school and that worries me almost as much as the aliens.

But I mean, it's not like she would let me do anything, right? She didn't even have a hangover which means that she wasn't that drunk which means that there was no way in the world that she would've hooked up with me.

Right?

I'm wondering if maybe I should try and find her and ask her, but I'm wondering if maybe whatever happened is one of those things that we're just never supposed to talk about again and forget that it ever happened. I've never been very good at things like that, and it's not like we ever agreed to it, because this strange mysterious thing has never been talked about at all, if there even is any strange mysterious thing to begin with.

I'm not even making sense anymore.

I'm rambling. I need to stop doing that. I need to shut up and I need to get some lunch because for once I actually am hungry and even though our school doesn't serve us food, we do have vending machines that sell strawberry poptarts and that's more than enough for me.

I'm fishing through my pockets to see if I even have any money at all because for some reason, even though you can buy a whole box of poptarts for 3.97 at CVS less than two minutes away, the school still manages to charge 2.25 for two stupid poptarts. Yeah, I know it'd make so much more sense to just go out and buy a box but then I'd end up eating all of them in the next 24 hours and then I'd break out and then I'd be ridiculously bloated and I'd have to jog two miles for the next week to burn off the calories.

Well, not to burn off the calories. Just to make myself feel better about eating eight poptarts in one day.

I'm weird like that.

Somehow, it makes sense. I don't really know how, I just know that it does, and if you don't like it, I'm probably going to find you some day, pin you to a wall with a pitchfork and force feed you a box of poptarts, just to see how you feel and what you do.

Yeah, I really do not to stop rambling, don't I?

So, now I've got my poptart and I'm sitting on window frame of the third floor girl's bathroom, breaking off little pieces and chewing them, watching the rain pour down. It's dark and the only light outside's the occasional crack of lightning and, as weird as it sounds, I actually sort of do love how much it rains in this town.

I sound like I'm depressed or something, but I'm not. I don't think I am, anyway. I'm just kind of socially awkward and I like when it's quiet and I like when it's peaceful and I love the rain and it smells nice afterwards. I'm not retarded or something, and I'm totally crazy around my friends and little kids, I just never talk in school.

I'm thinking about her again. Why won't I stop thinking about her? I mean, I'm not going to go on one of those stupid, "OMGZ AM I GAY DO I LOVE HER??/ SO GROSS!" rants because I fucking love girls, but still. It's bothering me that I can't stop making everything I think of go back to her. I'm wondering what she's doing right now and what she's wearing and if that Texas-shaped hickey is still there and if anybody's asked her about it and maybe I should too, because maybe it was there Friday and I just didn't notice it.

Well, of course it was, stupid.

She'd never hook up with me.

I'm stupid. I'm so ridiculously stupid. It's one stupid hickey and it's one stupid girl with some stupid blonde hair who moved here from stupid New York and has been here for one stupid week and it's one stupid little crush and I've had dozens of stupid crushes before so I really need to shut the fucking hell up, because I'm almost as bad as Sean right now.

Sean's my gay friend. I absolutely love his guts out, but when he started going out with his first real boyfriend, oh my god. That was the worst month of my entire life. And then the weeks after the kid got sick of him and dumped him. Oh, my god. All I ever heard was, "Oh my god do you think he still likes me? I can't believe I went so far out of my way for him and I didn't even get a hug! Well, I mean, he messaged me on Facebook and I think he still likes me.."

I wanted to shoot myself.

Love is stupid. Especially stupid fake love that's just attraction to somebody you barely know or a stupid 8th grade relationship where you go out for like, a month or something and then tell everybody that you're totally heartbroken and you want to kill yourself when it's over, until you're going out with some new guy the next week, who you're totally in love.

Real love's almost as bad though, because it's so hard to find, and then most of the time it ends up just falling apart and you're sitting there with all your stupid pictures of the past and you're realizing that you're only in love with the person that used to be.

I say everybody should just give up on love and fuck all day long.

--

"Hey."

"Hey."

Gee, that wasn't awkward at all.

"How sick were you this weekend?" She's asking, twirling her curls around her finger absently, scribbling hearts and stars and song lyrics in her notebook.

"I think I'm still hungover." I'm admitting, leaning my head on my desk and folding my arms over my eyes, groaning pathetically.

"Is that even possible?"

"Now it is."

"You're a god." She's saying, grinning stupidly.

"I am. You wish you were like me."

Miss Tequila's passed out in the front of the room like always, and class just started. She was already in here when we came, which makes me think that she was here all night or something.

"I do."

"Hey, where's that hickey from anyway?" I'm asking quickly, before I can lose my momentary spur of courage and sit there chewing my lip for the rest of the period and then I'll never find out what it was from.

She's looking at me and I'm looking back and I'm wondering what's going through her head, but she's not saying anything, and then out of nowhere she turns around to one of the potheads and asks if one of them can hit her up with a 20.

Why's she avoiding it?

--

It's funny because I wrote 3/4 of this chapter in 40 minutes.

After a month of not being able to write anything at all.

Dx


	7. WAIT WAT

"So, say that you got drunk with a girl." I'm starting, twirling the phone cord around my finger nervously, hoping that he's not going to go all, "Drugs are bad!" on me and completely ignore what I'm asking him for and not even let me talk at all, because yes, he has done that before.

"Right."

"And say that you have a bit of a maybe crush on her and when you woke up in her car the morning after you got drunk with her and there's a hickey on her neck that you're pretty sure wasn't there before and you don't remember a thing about the night before and she keeps avoiding talking about it." I'm saying all of this with one breath and by the end of it I'm wondering if anything I said was even decipherable as something resembling the English language, because I'm sure if I had to listen to myself talk for too long I wouldn't have a clue what the hell I was going on about.

"And?" He's so damn smart but he can be pretty dim sometimes. A lot of the time, actually.

"Well, why would she avoid it?" I'm asking, frustrated, as I roll over on my bed, staring up at the bright white ceiling and all the weird shadows that my light's making on the wall and shit, I'm creeping myself out. It's dark outside and I'm the only one that's home and fine, maybe I'm still a tiny tiny little bit scared of the dark even though I'm fifteen years old and that's the kind of thing that kids make fun of you for when you're going into second grade.

"Maybe because she doesn't wanna tell you?" Christ.

"I figured that much on my own, thanks."

He really couldn't give a shit, could he? Jesus. Boys are so annoying when you want anything at all from them. Gohan in particular, lately. All he ever wants to talk about is how much weight he was able to lift yesterday or some video he saw on youtube that I really couldn't care less about or trying to get back together with me, which is so fucking stupid because of the way he acts when I ask for one stupid little piece of advice from him like I am now.

Okay, fine. I know I'm being way too hard on him and he's actually a really good guy and he's sweet and he's only like this because it's hurting him thinking about me liking somebody else when he still likes me and he's still trying to deny that I'm into girls in the first place, but I'm still allowed to get pissed, aren't I? I mean, we went out in the beginning of eighth grade or something and we didn't really do much of anything and I wasn't really that great to him because I honestly only went out with him because I wanted _somebody_ to care about me.

I'm selfish, I know. Shut up.

"Dude. Yesterday I lifted 450." He's saying, and I swear to god right now if I could I would shoot that boy. I wish I had more friend who were girls and knew the first thing about anything that wasn't baseball or lifting weights or something in a math textbook. I know, he's a dream guy to every girl. Except me. Ew. Guys.

"Uhm. My dad wants me. I've gotta go. Bye." I'm hanging up before he can protest and, knowing him, he's going to call back in a couple of seconds and start talking to me again, completely and absolutely oblivious to the fact that I'm trying to get rid of me, and so angrily I'm pulling myself up and turning the ringers off on all the phones in the house so at least I don't have to get a headache, too.

Right on cue, as I'm about to switch off the ringer on the first phone, it starts ringing and if I was stronger I think I would've crushed the poor, innocent phone into a billion tiny little pieces and then I'd probably step on one and get it stuck in my foot for the next two weeks, or something equally fun, and know that somewhere, some old guy is laughing at me and telling me that that's what I get for not liking Mr. Prince Charmingly Perfect Perfectness and that's what I get for assault of a cordless phone, and then he's going to put me before the court of the high phone council and they're going to sentence me to death by strangulation.

Christ. What the fucking fuck. I sound like I'm on something. The high phone council? That sounds like a little kid's nightmare a few days before christmas after they've done something that by small child standards is considered awful, like unplugging the phone from the phone jack or putting tape on the dish cleaner thing on the sink so that it'll spray the next person who turns the water on and tries to do the dishes.

Wait. Fuck. Fucking shit, nice job Videl. I turned the fucking phone on. Christ. I don't want to deal with this. "What?"

"Well gee, hello to you too." I think that if my heart could actually leap out of my chest and make a gross looking heart shape a couple of feet away from my chest, with a bunch of throbbing veins and tendons and stretched out skin connecting it to the rest of my body after it burst through my ribs, right now would've been the time that it happened.

"Oh. Shit. My bad. I thought you were somebody else.." I'm mumbling, walking back to my room and collapsing onto my bed. I can't help it that she's got one of the hottest voices I've ever heard, on top of everything else that's so amazing about her. That's my reasoning to make myself feel better about what a horny little bitch I am as I shove my hand down my sweatpants.

"It's called caller ID, sweetie." She's smiling. I can tell, even over the phone. Don't ask me how, because I can't explain it. It's just something that her voice seems to do whenever she's smiling. Not even when she's happy, just when she's smiling. Don't ask me how I know that, and don't say that I'm a stalkerish freak or something, because I'm really not, I just tend to notice stupid little things like that because I like little things more than anything else.

Yes, I am talking about Juuachi. I know I move through crushes quickly, but not that fast, and not when I actually get along with the person and see them and talk to them and they're definitely flirting back (which probably just means that she's really comfortable with her sexuality, but for the sake of my sex dreams, we'll be ignoring that fact.)

"I'm primitive. Don't make fun of my people." I'm mumbling defensively, trying to sound offended, because yes, I am able to have a perfectly normal conversation with a person with my hands shoved down my pants. It's a gift I'm quite proud of.

Well, not really. But it's nice.

"Hey. By the way, you should open your door. It's getting kind of lonely out here." She's saying, and I can hear her smiling again and I'm remembering, "Oh yeah, she's seventeen." and I'm wondering if seeing her right now's really the best idea because I don't really want to see anybody at all, but then again it _is_ Juuachi and Juuachi is different from other people.

"I haven't even taken a shower." I'm arguing hopelessly, already giving up and rolling out of bed and pulling my shirt down over my bra.

"Well, let me in and I'll take a shower with you. I feel like a freak sitting out on your doorstep." She's saying, and before I can argue anymore she's hung up and I'm not even going to bother telling her that if she felt like such a freak she could've just gone home or something.

Yeah, I get bitchy when I don't have my alone time.

I'm sighing and I'm walking down my stairs in the pair of ripped jeans I found outside my rooms and swapped for my grey and incredibly huge varsity softball sweatpants and a shirt that I'm pretty sure Gohan left here some time last year.

She's standing at my front door and she has her face pressed up against the glass, making a face that looks like cooked roadkill and I can't help but laugh and it's crazy because she still looks like a model.

"Well, hello there." She's saying and she's pulling the front door open and she's kissing my lips and then she's plopping down on my couch and turning on the t.v..

Wait.

What just happened?

"Uhm, hi?"

"Don't you have a shower to take?"

--

:D Yayy! New chappy! is all proud of myself for like.. forcing myself to write through my writer's block and now it's almost all gone

Uhmmm.. ..Honestly.. I wrote this in about 40 minutes. Dx

Jeez. I'm so proud of myself. Seven chapters. That's a new record. Usually I lose interest halfway through chapter one.

Welllll.. leave a review! Pretty please? :D I'll love you!


	8. White is my favorite color

So, it's been a month and nothing's happened and she's only kissed me once since then and, oh, god I can't stop thinking about her. Which is stupid, right? Yeah, it's stupid. It's stupid because she just moved here and I hardly know anything about her except the fact that she's gorgeous and she used to be an alcoholic and she's my friend.

She's smart. I've realized that much, too. She isn't annoying know it all smart or smart on paper but really stupid otherwise smart, she's just smart, and the fact that she doesn't parade around yelling it to the streets makes her that much smarter. She's sweet in her own little way and she makes words do the most spectacular, beautiful things when they roll off her tongue.

She has a thing for art too, but I've only seen that once, when I went over to her house because my dad was trying to make ours prettier (which really just means he put a sledgehammer through the wall and then realized that there was a supporting column in there.) God damn, that girl was rich compared to everybody else in this town. She had a pool and her house must've been 5000 square feet and jesus christ.

And I'd always thought that her dad was some big, scary looking beefy looking guy with tattoos or something ridiculous like that, but she'd assured me that he was actually a really nice guy. Yeah, he sure sounded sweet when he'd screamed at her that one day, which, of course, had been the only time I'd ever heard or seen him.

Turns out that he was a pretty nice guy. A scrawny little guy with paint all over his clothes and brown hair down to his shoulders and a nervous smile that made it obvious that he was always the shy kid in the corner in high school.

She's sitting next to me now, and it's raining and Miss Tequila's sitting at the front of the room with a bottle of vodka and a shot glass and she's burning pictures of what must be an ex. "Oh, my god, Videl. I love rainy days."

I'm looking at her, confused, while she just sits there and stares out the window like a girl who's seeing chocolate for the first time in a month when she's on her period. Which, yes, is a very pleasant analogy, I know.

She just smiles and turns me around so that I'm facing out the window and oh, my god, I love rainy days.

There's this absolutely gorgeous girl standing in the rain and I know it makes me sound like such a stupid, perverted guy, but she's wearing a white shirt and a leopard-print bra. Okay, I feel horribly guilty for staring, but oh my god, this girl is beautiful. She's beautiful and she has the perfect body and it makes it even harder not to stare because she's standing out in the rain and she's waiting for somebody but you can tell they're not going to come, because I see her out there every single day, waiting for somebody to come and save her, and I can just barely see the bright red cuts peeking out from under her shirt.

"She's beautiful." I say simply, turning back to Juuachi and realizing vaguely that she's wearing white and god, this is one of those times I wish she didn't have a car.

She looks at me for a moment, and then grins and leans back in her chair, tilting it so that she's on two legs and she's held up just by the desk, and she says, "She's fucking hot."

And it seems so unlike her, because she's always the one whose every word comes out perfectly and should be put in some seventh grader's AIM profile along with all the other supposed truths about life, but it still seems perfect. Every single tiny little thing is perfect, I'm realizing, while she throws her head back and stares at the ceiling just like she stared at that girl, with her blonde hair hanging down on her chair.

--

I'm looking over at her and she's just staring at the road, so it's not like she's going to catch me staring, right? She has the most perfect hair, and oh my god, I absolutely adore her eyes. And it's not really that bad that I'm staring, right? She's the older one, it's not like I'm doing something illegal and nobody's going to think I'm disgusting because everybody stares at everybody, no matter how old they are.

It's never going to happen though. It's never going to happen like every other kid's dream of some beautiful older woman, because seniors just don't go for girls like me who're shot and fourteen years old and who just started high school a month and a half ago.

Right?

And I'm thinking back to those hickeys she'd had and how I hadn't heard a single rumor about her hooking up with anybody or her having some secret boyfriend.

"You're into girls?" I asked once she'd pulled up to my house, and she just sat there and looked at me like I'd just asked what was so great about sliced bread (and yes, I was going to say sex, but I honestly think that sliced bread is much better than sex.)

"Course I am, silly. I wasn't drunk enough that I wouldn't have stopped you." She says, grinning at me and turning the radio up, and I'm sitting there wondering what the hell she apparently hadn't stopped me from doing, and then I'm remembering the hickeys on her neck and the one that I'm pretty sure I thought looked like Texas, and then I'm looking back at her again.

But I don't think that she realizes that I don't take my alcohol very well, because I haven't said anything and she's got this hurt look on her face and she's mumbling, "I actually like you, you know. I'm not some kind of whore."

And then we just sat there in our own little silence, with obnoxious DJs and top 40 songs blaring through the radio and trying to fill all the empty space in this car with cheap imitations and promises of paying all our bills, while I sit here and realize that I'm not the only one who's always so scared that her words are all wrong.


	9. It's like I have ESPN or something

She hasn't talked to me for three days. Which normally wouldn't be that long, but she's my best (by best, I mean only) friend and she's been on IM and I've messaged her, she just hasn't said anything, and it's not like she's gone idle so she's avoiding me.

She's avoiding me and I don't get why.

I want to sit around and tell her all the ways she makes me crazy. The way her nose curves outward just the tiniest bit at the bottom and how much her tone of voice changes and that alone tells me if she's being serious about something, and if her voice is lower then she's pissed off or she feels strongly about whatever she's talking about and if it's higher, she's about to start laughing or do something stupid and then we'll both be laughing, and whenever she's nervous, she picks at her nails and she's the only other person I've ever met who does that, too.

She stares out the window in math classes and oh, my god that girl can write. She sits there and she's supposed to be doing calculus or whatever class Miss Tequila teaches (I don't even remember, at this point) but she's filled up pages and pages of her sloppy, loopy handwriting and fine, maybe I borrowed her notebook one day without really asking, so actually it was more like I stole it with intentions to return it, and jesus christ. Once I figured out how to actually decipher her handwriting, I realized with every single sloppy word that she really was a genius.

And while she becomes more and more amazing and beautiful and perfect by the day, I'm sitting here and I'm coming closer and closer to honestly falling for her and it's eating away at me and eventually I'm going to drown and all I can ever think about is her. I'm losing myself and I really don't mind at all, and of course I know that it's happening, because this always happens when I meet somebody like her (which doesn't really happen all that often at all, to be honest) and I know that I'm going to look back and regret it, just because it's happened every other time, but right now I'm happy.

God, stop it, stupid. I'm just going on and on and on like the bumbling idiot I am but christ, I miss her so much. I miss all her perfect words and all her tones and the way she's always curling pieces of hair around her index finger when she's bored and she isn't writing and actually, now that I think about it, I do that too.

Please just talk to me. Talk to me so I can blurt things like this out at you and so I can tell you that you're beautiful and that this is all a misunderstanding and that I actually do like you, too, and at this point I'd do anything to be with you and please, please just talk to me.

Maybe if I sit around and talk to myself and pretend that it's her for long enough, she'll actually be able to hear me. She'll hear me and she'll realize that I didn't sleep with her just to sleep with her (actually, since I was drunk, that sort of came out wrong) and I'm not messing around with her and I'm four years younger than her, fine, but I'm not going to treat her like shit like everybody else around me treats all the people they say that they're falling for.

Please hear me. Please, please pleasepleaseplease hear me. I need you to hear me. I need you to hear me and I need you to say something back and I need this to work. I need something, for once, to just work and end up the way that I've had on my mind for weeks and I need you, plain and simple.

I need you. I need to know if I even have a chance, at least. I need to know if I'm taking everything so wrong and you don't give a crap about me at all or anything that I've ever done and you really don't care that we had sex and that you actually thought I was horrible and you hated it and if you're laughing at me about it right now. I wonder if you're laughing at me and you know that I'm acting like this, because maybe you can hear me and you don't give a fuck.

Maybe that's it.

That's it. She doesn't really give a fuck and she's been jerking me around all this time and now she finally feels guilty, so she's going to ignore me and eventually my curiosity will die and we'll die and anything I thought I had for her will die and we'll just be dead and we'll just be strangers all over again. Dead. Dead dead dead dead.

Maybe dead is easier, and that's why we die. When we realize that it's easier to be dead and we just accept that life isn't ever going to be easy, and dying's the easiest thing we're ever going to do, and we accept that we've going to die, then we die. Once we've learned to babble incoherently and we need to use diapers again for the first time since we were two years old, that's when we stop trying and then we die.

Maybe it's the same way with me and her. Once I accept that there's nothing and there won't be, it'll die, and it'll die easy.

It's going to die. We're going to die because there was never anything there to begin with, really. We're going to die because she's laughing at me right now and I'm finally understanding that she never wanted me and she never will.

Please don't. Please listen to me and please care. Please, please please care, because I do need you and I'm not ready for us to die. I'm definitely not ready for us to die, and if my theory of dying is right, then we can't die if I don't want us to die.

And I don't. So hear me and talk to me.

I'm sitting here in my spinny computer chair and I really do think that I've gone absolutely insane. I'm staring at my computer screen, as though she actually is going to hear my mental pleading and she's going to talk to me and then we're going to talk and we're going to figure us out and we aren't going to die and maybe she'll be my girlfriend and then all of this will make so much more sense, because all the little things she does for me will have a meaning and some driving force that I just can't see right now.

Please.

I'm feeling my eyes watering just the tiniest little bit, and god, I feel so delirious, and I really am going crazy, aren't I?

**xxeighteenxshots:** heyy

Hey. She heard me.


	10. Even the ice hates me

"I've missed you, you know," I mumbled softly when her hand paused halfway between putting her coffee back in her cup holder and turning up the volume on her iPod, because I'd proven myself absolutely terrible at operating anything with a touch screen. And it's stupid because it's not like we're dating or anything and I don't even know. But I have. I've missed her. And I'm only realizing how much now that I'm sitting here in her car with her and watching little snowflakes falling to the ground all around us and it should feel cold but she's blasting the heat and she's smiling and I just feel so content when I'm around her and it's something that nobody else ever makes me feel quite the same way.

She stops and I can feel her softening and she has this look in her eyes that she gets whenever something's making her happy and I'm blushing but I'm looking at her and I'm grinning sheepishly and she's smiling back and it's the softest, sweetest thing and I was right. She _is_ happy. She does that when she's happy too.

I just sat on that for a couple of moments and it was good enough that she was happy and I hadn't seen that for so long because she hadn't been talking to me because I don't really know why because we didn't even talk about it and I just assumed that it was one of those things that I shouldn't ask about, but she was happy and that was all that mattered and then I realized that maybe it's me.

Maybe it's me that's making her happy and maybe it's something I did that made her act the way she'd been acting and maybe it was just me.

She really is beautiful.

And then I'm smiling too. I mean, I was already smiling because I'm just an idiot like that but it's changing and I'm sure I must have the same look on my face that she does and god, I have the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach like I just drank a ton of hot chocolate but I haven't even touched mine yet because it burns the shit out of my tongue.

"I missed you too," She says, and she's staring at me and I can't look away. I can't. I just can't. She's amazing and she takes my breath away and oh, my god, she's absolutely stunning. And I can feel myself leaning closer to her and I don't really know why I'm doing it and I don't have a full grasp of the fact that I'm doing it at all because I've lost all grasp on reality and all I know is that she makes me feel things and the closer I am to her, the warmer I feel and it's so cold and she's warm and I want to be warm, too.

And I'm realizing all of a sudden what I'm doing and I think she does too and there's a second where we just sit there and look at each other and we're not saying a single word but it's like there's a novel's worth being said, somehow, as odd as that sounds and she knows. She knows whatever it is that I still haven't fully grasped because she knows everything. And she knows that feeling that she gives me because she feels it too. I mean, she has to, right? She has too.

I'm sitting there and I'm breathing her coffee and mint gum air and she's breathing my tictac breath and I just want her to hug me and never let go and I want it to be summer and I want to sit in the middle of the street with her and lay down and stay there all night and talk about life and love and tell her about all the stupid things I did when I was a little kid and I want her to tell me everything and I want her to want to and I want her to feel exactly how I do. No stupid lies and no trying to make myself into this other great person that I'm obviously not and I want her to know _me_ and I want her to like me for me and I want her to want me to like her for her and I want to know everything and I want to see her smile.

Now, isn't this a great time for an icicle to snap off the ceiling of the Dunkin Donuts we're parked out of and shatter next to the car?

Yeah. Yeah, I thought so too.

But it happened anyway. Proof that God hates lesbians.

Which I still don't understand. How on earth does anybody hate lesbians? We're hot as fuck.

"Shit!" She's mumbling, rolling down the window and I'm wondering why for a moment but I don't say a word and I wonder if maybe she's seeing if we've been brutally attacked by flying ice and we should call the paramedics and the choppers, but she just hangs her head out the window and stares down at the asphalt.

"Life's real pretty, isn't it..?" She practically whispers through chapped lips, and then I realize that she's just looking at all the little broken pieces and the little bits of water dripping down the sides and the way the sun bounces off and I wish she would look at me like that.

I'm staring at her. I'm staring at her while she's got her head shoved out her window and that feeling's coming back again and I'm pretty sure I haven't dumped a cup of hot chocolate or coffee on myself so it's not that.

"You're real pretty."

--

It's way too short considering how long it's been since I've updated but I really think this is much sweeter as it is than it would be with another scene in the chapter.

And my fingers hurt.


End file.
